


Boundaries

by aurora_australis



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, MFMM Year of Quotes, Rainer Maria Rilke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 07:53:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15384153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurora_australis/pseuds/aurora_australis
Summary: Phryne’s back in town and Jack is suspicious. He’s right to be.Inspired by the quote:“And lovers,are they not forever invading one another’sboundaries? - although they promised space,hunting and homeland”Rainer Maria Rilke





	Boundaries

**Author's Note:**

> My contribution to the MFMM Year of Quotes -- July Challenge.
> 
> Inspired by the quote:  
>  _“And lovers,_  
>  _are they not forever invading one another’s_  
>  _boundaries? - although they promised space,_  
>  _hunting and homeland”_  
>  Rainer Maria Rilke
> 
> Many thanks to 221A_brina for the beta read!
> 
> Be advised, this is a bit ridiculous. You’ve been warned. Enjoy! ;-)

Jack was suspicious.

He was suspicious by nature, true, but that didn’t mean he was _wrong_. His many years on the force, off at war, and in association with Miss Fisher had convinced him that a fair amount of cautious distrust was good. Healthy even. It kept him sharp. It kept him alive. So, yes, Jack _was_ suspicious, but he also trusted his intuition in these kinds of situations. And right now, his intuition was screaming.

Something was afoot at Wardlow. 

He’d been noticing it all week. Conversations that seemed to suddenly end when he walked in the room. Furtive looks in his direction. What sounded like giggles from unlikely sources such as Cec. 

What the hell was going on? 

At first, he wondered if it might be a surprise party. That theory fit the evidence, but not the timing. His birthday was months away. Then he briefly wondered if something might be wrong, perhaps someone in the household was ill, and no one wanted to tell him. But there was no discernable air of sadness which would portend such a thing. He was stumped. He’d gone so far as to start checking his reflection in the mirror before heading over, lest something about his appearance be the cause. But no. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Jack was at a loss. 

He contemplated all of this as he drove to Wardlow that evening, considering the clues once more, only to come up blank. Again. He sighed. There was nothing for it. Perhaps it really was all in his head.

Parking his car, he checked his reflection in the glass once more (nothing amiss as per usual) and headed up the walk to the front door. Mr. Butler greeted him warmly. 

“Good evening, sir.”

“Good evening, Mr. Butler. I believe Miss Fisher is expecting me.”

“Yes, sir. She should be down in just a mo-”

“Jack!”

Calling his name, Phryne came bounding down the stairs practically taking the steps two at a time. She reached the bottom and rushed over to Jack, and, with as much pretense as practicality, stepped up to relieve him of his coat and hat. Handing them to her he smiled, just a little, at her eagerness. He had hopes that sooner rather than later she’d be relieving him of even more layers, but he didn’t want to get ahead of himself. She’d only been back a week, after all. There was time.

“I can take those, miss.”

At that, Jack and Phryne looked away from each other suddenly, slightly startled. Mr. Butler usually disappeared as if by magic sometime before this point; they were both somewhat surprised he was still there. 

“Oh, yes, thank you, Mr. B,” Phryne answered. She offered him the items which he then hung on their appointed hooks.

“Will you be needing anything else before supper?” he asked turning back to the two detectives. It was then that they both noticed the soup ladle in his left hand as he held it before him.

“No, I think… I’m sorry, are we having soup tonight, Mr. B?” Phryne asked, a bit surprised.

“No, miss. Potatoes au gratin, as requested.”

“Oh. Alright.” Clearly a little confused, Phryne looked at him strangely, but after a moment he just smiled and excused himself, leaving the two alone.

“What was that all about?” Jack asked.

“I’ve no idea,” Phryne responded. And then she snapped back, her full attention on Jack. “But I do know we have at least a half an hour before we’re due to eat. Can I tempt you with a pre-dinner cocktail?” She nodded towards the parlour and smiled.

Deciding somewhat impulsively that perhaps fortune favored the bold for a reason, Jack responded in a low voice, “Miss Fisher, I believe you can tempt me with a great many things tonight.”

Phryne's jaw dropped at his brazen statement, and for a moment Jack savored a somewhat unusual feeling he would describe as “smugness” before her expression shifted into something positively predatory. He swallowed, hard, realizing he’d just made a tactical error. He had essentially thrown petrol on a fire and was, quite frankly, about to go up in flames.

“Oh Jack. I absolutely plan to,” she purred as she sashayed into the parlor, leaving Jack to follow. 

He entered a moment after her, and immediately took up his customary position at the mantelpiece as she picked up their drinks from the tray. That he’d barely been in this room during the five months she’d been gone didn’t make it any less comfortable or familiar. It felt like home. _She_ felt like home.

She brought the drinks over and handed him his, her fingers lingering on his slightly longer than was necessary, but shorter than he’d have liked. He nodded in thanks, and she took up a spot next to him at the mantel.

“How are you settling in?” he asked, taking his first sip, and concluding for the hundredth time that Mr. Butler was a damn genius. 

“Oh, fine. I’ve spent the last few days dealing with boring logistical matters. Honestly, it’s all been downhill since my welcome home party last weekend. Your visits aside, of course.”

“Of course,” he answered with a sly smile and another sip. He’d been to her home three times this week, not including the party or this evening. Each time he’d considered making another romantic overture, but didn’t want to scare her off. He had carefully wooed her before; he could do it again.

As the glass touched his lips, Jack noticed Phryne’s gaze drift from his eyes to his mouth and remain there. Well, he thought, careful wooing didn’t have to preclude some frankly excellent snogging, if memory of that airfield served. He slowly moved even closer toward her, and she him, as though pulled together by forces outside their control. 

“You know, Jack,” she said, slightly breathlessly, “not all logistical matters are boring. Sometimes they can be exciting. The planning involved… the coordination…”

“Planning’s not really your strong suit though, is it?”

Phryne and Jack both started at the unexpected interjection. Before them stood Doctor Elizabeth MacMillan, eyebrow raised in amusement. Phryne looked less amused. Jack looked positively irate.

This! This was the worst part of whatever mystery had been plaguing him all week! Ever since Phryne’s return, people had been interrupting him. Interrupting _them!_ It was beyond aggravating. He and Phryne had been tentatively taking steps towards… _something_ in the week since her return. But it seemed that every time they’d found a moment alone - to discuss her adventures, his latest case, the _damned weather_ \- someone in her blasted household had felt the need to interrupt. He was used to it from her aunt of course, but Mrs. Collins? Jane? Bert?

It was infuriating.

Jack took a breath, called on all his reserves, and managed to school his face fairly quickly, all things considered. 

“Good evening, Doctor. What brings you by tonight?” he asked in as even a voice as he could muster. As he spoke, he suddenly wondered if perhaps she and Phryne had plans. Perhaps he’d misunderstood Miss Fisher’s invitation, and it was he who was intruding on their evening. But no. One look at Phryne's irritated expression and it was crystal clear the good doctor had surprised them both with her visit.

“I was actually hoping you two could consult on a case.”

“Oh?” Phryne asked, suddenly less annoyed. 

“Yes.” Mac held up what looked like an ice pick in front of her. “Can you hold this?” she asked Phryne.

“Doctor MacMillan, is that evidence?” Jack asked rather sharply, professional outrage replacing personal annoyance.

“No. At least, I don’t think it is anyway. I got it from this one’s kitchen,” she answered with a nod towards Phryne. “No telling what crimes I’ve not been privy to.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mac,” Phryne replied. “If I’d killed someone, you’d be my first call. Who better to help me get rid of the body?”

“Ladies, could we possibly hold off discussing the ingenuous way you’d get away with murder until another time? Like my retirement dinner?”

“Jack, you really shouldn’t assume I have just the one,” Phryne teased. Jack shook his head and leaned in a little closer, just to bask a bit more in the amusement in her eyes.

“Yes,” Mac interrupted, “as I was saying, hold this.” She handed the pick to Phryne who took it from her and then turned a questioning eye on her friend.

“Now what?” Phryne asked.

“I’m just considering the entry point and trying to get a feel for how someone of your size and stature would hold it, that’s all,” Mac answered.

“Someone of my… and I’m the _only_ woman you know capable of holding a pick?” Phryne asked incredulously.

“No. But most of the women I know have no interest in it,” Mac replied, with a smirk.

Jack coughed and Phryne laughed.

“Alright, so just… hold it?” Phyne asked.

“Just a little in front of you,” Mac adjusted the pick so it was held out a little more, in front of Phryne and pointed towards Jack, “like… so. Perfect.”

Mac looked at it closely for a moment, then took it back from her friend.

“Wonderful. Thank you, darling. Enjoy your evening.”

And with that, Mac turned around and left the parlour.

“That was odd, yes?” Jack asked, uncertain as to what exactly the doctor had just concluded.

“Very. But it’s also over.” Phryne turned back to him and reached up to straighten his tie, fooling no one, but not particularly caring. “And we’re alone again.”

“We are,” he agreed, sliding his arm on the mantelpiece slightly closer to her.

“And I believe we were discussing _coordination_.”

“You were discussing it,” he said in a low voice, “I was about to demonstrate it.”

“Demonstrate what?”

In the doorway, Jane had appeared. On the mantel, Jack’s arm flew back towards his body.

“Hello, Jane,” Phryne greeted her ward as she walked into the room towards her foster mother. “Back from your study session so soon?”

“Yes, I wanted to show you -”

“There you are!” Dot’s voice preceded her into the room, but only by moments. “I was looking for you.”

Phryne sighed quietly at the latest interruption. Jack closed his eyes and prayed he’d wake up.

“Who were you looking for, Dot, dear?” Phryne asked, a model of patience. 

That was new. _Must have been all that flying_ , Jack thought, it required great self-control. Something he himself was quickly losing.

“You, miss! Remember, I promised to knit you that new scarf for the winter.”

“It won’t be winter for months, Dot.”

“Well, no time like the present. Can I just… ” She held up what was obviously one of her scarves - those hideous West Melbourne colours meant it certainly wasn’t Hugh’s - and placed it in front of Phryne to measure her. “There,” she said. “Perfect. I can get started on it right away.”

“Oh good,” Phryne said. “Maybe you should then. In the kitchen, perhaps? Jane can go with you.” 

Ah, Jack smiled a little to himself. That was much more the Phryne he remembered. He smiled a little more.

“But I haven’t shown you the maths prize I won yet,” Jane complained.

“What’s that, Jane?” Jack inquired. He really did like to encourage the girl’s scientific pursuits. Even if her timing was abysmal.

“It’s a new bow compass! See!” Jane pulled out a compass for drawing; two legs joined by a flexible metal spring, a spike at one end, and a pencil at the other. She held it up proudly for Jack and Phryne to admire. “I won it in a maths competition at school. Look, I can use it to create arcs!” She gave Phryne one side and Jack the other to demonstrate its flexibility.

“Very nice, Jane,” Jack complimented. “Congratulations.”

“Yes,” Dot said, in a tone that surprised both Phryne and Jack with its un-Dot-like irritation. “Well done.”

Jack thought for a moment that he saw Dot fully _glare_ at Jane, but couldn’t be sure because he didn’t think he’d ever seen her glare before.

“Thank you,” Jane said sweetly to Jack, tossing a big smile Dot’s way as well.

“Well,” Phryne cut in, “now that we’ve seen Jane’s new compass and Dot has her scarf plans well in hand, perhaps you’d both like to see how Mr. Butler is doing in the kitchen?” With that, she gently took each young lady by the shoulder and led them out of the parlour, closing the doors behind them, and falling back against the wood paneling in frustration.

“It’s like a damn conspiracy!” she exclaimed. She took a deep breath, pushed herself off the door, and walked back over to Jack. “Now… where were we?” She smiled and moved her hands up his lapels, but he placed his own over hers, stopping their path, a frown on his face.

“What if it is?” he asked quietly.

“What if it is what?” she asked, clearly confused by both his question and change in demeanor.

“A conspiracy. Or, not a conspiracy, but… what if your household is all in agreement about something? And that _something_ is that we shouldn’t be together.” Jack hated to even say it out loud. But this conclusion seemed to fit the evidence. And Jack was a man who followed the evidence.

“Whatever are you talking about, Jack?”

He took a step back from her and gestured towards the now closed door. “All week, Miss Fisher. All week these interruptions have been plaguing us. I thought perhaps it was in my head, but if you’re seeing it too… I don’t know. What if there’s a reason?

“What possible reason would they have to try and stop,” she waved vaguely between them, “this? Those people are our friends.”

“ _Those people_ are your family. And they think the world of you. What if…” he sighed deeply and sat down on the chaise. “What if the people who love you most think I’m not good enough for you?” he asked quietly. 

“You can’t really believe that.”

Jack threw his arms up in frustration. “I don’t know what to believe! I only know we haven’t been able to have a moment alone since you returned and I don’t think that’s an accident. And yes, as far as timing and interruptions go, we’ve not had the best of luck in the past, but it’s never been like this. I think... we were perhaps _cozier_ at your welcome home party than your family has previously seen us. Maybe this is their reaction to that.” He sighed again, looking down at his hands. “Maybe… maybe they believe we just won’t work and they’re trying to save us the heartache.”

She sat down next to him and gently took his hand in hers. “Everyone else aside, do _you_ think that, Jack?”

He looked up and met her gaze. “No. I actually think we’d be damned good together. I had a lot of time to think while you were away, Phryne, and this is what I want. If it’s what you want too, I’m all in.” He squeezed her hand gently and felt her return the gesture. For just a moment, Jack forgot their dilemma and marveled at how such a small thing could make him so happy. He was about to lift her hand to his lips for a kiss when she suddenly pulled it back. 

“Alright then.”

“Alright then what?”

“Alright then let’s set them straight.” And with that she stood up, marched over to the parlour doors, threw them open wide and stormed through the house until she reached the kitchen, Jack following close behind. When they reached their destination, however, they both stopped short, surprised at the scene before them.

Crowded around the kitchen table, all talking animatedly, were Jane, Dot, Cec, Bert, and Mac. Mr. Butler was listening intently as he continued his dinner preparations. Hugh stood off to the side looking like he wished he were anywhere else.

“Good evening,” Phryne greeted the group coolly. Around the table, all conversation stopped. 

“And how is everyone tonight?” she continued. “Besides gathered in my kitchen, of course.” She looked around the room, waiting for a response. No one spoke.

After several long moments, a very nervous Hugh finally broke the silence. “I can explain, sir, and for the record I had nothing to do with it!” he blurted out, only to be shot a look by Dot that Jack was absolutely _certain_ was a glare. 

“Explain what?” Jack asked his constable in his best “Detective Inspector” voice. 

Hugh looked quickly between his boss and his wife, and ultimately came to the conclusion that she would make the more dangerous enemy. “Nothing, sir.” Hugh’s voice was so high and so strained, Jack almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

“Does anyone else at this table have anything they’d like to say to me or the Inspector?” Phryne asked, hands perched on hips, expression demanding an answer. 

Seven sets of eyes refused to make contact with hers. 

“Fine, then I have something to say to you. I believe it’s fairly obvious to a group as intelligent as this, that the Inspector and I are attempting to embark on a… new phase in our relationship. And it’s come to my attention that there may be a general feeling among you all that this is not a good idea. Further, you may have then taken it upon yourselves to try and halt our efforts through various interruptions and aggravations since my return. Well, let me be perfectly clear - whatever does or does not happen between Jack and myself is our business, and ours alone. However noble your intentions, going forward, you will all refrain from attempting to influence any outcome. In other words, _leave us alone_. Do you understand?”

Silence.

Jack looked around the room. He read embarrassment on most faces, surprise on some. Mac just stared right back at him with an unreadable expression until he looked away. But he still felt like he was missing something. He coughed lightly, then spoke truthfully.

“I don’t know exactly what’s going on here, but what I do know is that you all love Miss Fisher and want her to be happy. And for that, I am grateful. You are her family. I know that. Which is why I want to assure you, I want her to be happy as well. Whatever else you may think of me, I hope you’ll believe that.”

More silence. Then the sound of a spoon hitting the counter.

“Tell them.”

Of the myriad responses Jack had considered his speech might elicit, a directive to the room by Mr. Butler had not even crossed his mind. This evening was just getting more and more peculiar.

“Mr. B?” Phryne asked.

“I’m so sorry, miss, sir! It was just a bit of fun!” Dot looked torn between crying and confessing, but she was clearly leaning towards the latter. 

“I don’t understand,” Jack said, and honestly, he didn’t. 

“Oh for god’s sake! It was a bet,” Mac offered. “Last week, at your welcome home party, Phryne, none of us could help to notice how close you two were standing. Closer than usual, which, frankly, I didn’t think was physically possible. So while you were distracted with each other, we all got to talking and at some point decided to see if we could actually get a measurement on how close the two of you stand. For science,” she explained with a smirk. “Admittedly this conversation took place over quite a lot of very good champagne. And then _someone_ ,” she added with a long look towards Bert, who only crossed his arms in response, “upped the ante and made it a bet. Whoever got the smallest measurement, within a week, won.”

Phryne’s jaw dropped slightly as she took in her oldest friend’s words. “You’ve been _measuring_ us?” she asked incredulously. 

“Not you! The space _between_ you,” Dot rushed to clarify. 

“When there was any,” Mac muttered. 

“With what?” Jack queried, as he considered the details. He’d seen no rulers during their interactions, no measuring tape.

“We all had to use whatever household items we could find,” Dot said.

“I see,” Phryne seethed quietly. “Show me.”

Reluctantly, everyone placed the items they had used or were planning to use that evening on the table. Mac’s ice pick. Dot’s scarf. Jane’s compass. Mr. Butler’s soup ladle. Cec produced a dog leash from his pocket, while Bert defiantly held up a banana for all to see before peeling and starting to eat it. At Dot’s censuring look he muttered, “Well, it’s no good to me for scale now, is it? Might as well make some use of it.”

“So you were mocking us?” Phyne asked, and Jack could see the hurt in her eyes. Evidently, so could everyone else because there was a rush to set the record straight. In the end, Jane beat the rest of them to it.

“It’s my fault! I’m so sorry, miss! You mean the world to me and I was just trying to help,” she exclaimed.

“Help how?” Jack asked, perplexed.

Jane looked down, unable to meet his eye just yet. “Before Miss Phryne left it was so obvious you two were mad about each other. And you’re so kind, Inspector, and I was really hoping… But then Miss Phryne was gone such a long time, and I was worried that during her absence you might have gotten cold feet. And I thought if we could show you, scientifically, how _close_ you really are, to each other, it would help.”

“Help my… cold feet?”

“Yes,” she said, finally looking up. “I… _we_ think you’re marvelous together. We just wanted to help you see it, too.”

“Oh, Jane…” Phryne said, reaching down to give the girl a hug.

Mac leaned forward in her chair, picked up her ice pick and used it like a pointer in one of her lectures, waving it between Jack and Phryne for emphasis as she spoke. “You’ve both waltzed around this long enough, it was time to give you a nudge. And when Jane suggested this little experiment, we figured it was the perfect combination of logic and to-hell-with-social-conventions to appeal to you both.”

“I see…” Jack said as he ran his fingers over his lips. He looked around at all the people in the room. All the people who loved Phryne. All the people who had, however bizarrely, been trying to help them find their way back to each other. “When is this bet concluded, then?” he asked.

Dot looked at the clock on the wall. “In about an hour, Inspector.”

“So,” Phryne asked, “who won? Who marked the least amount of space between us?”

_Well_ , Jack thought, _I certainly hope fortune favors this_. 

“I believe, Miss Fisher, that I’m about to.” And then he reached up, cupped Phryne’s face in his hand, and kissed her in full view of everyone. It wasn’t terribly long, or terribly passionate; it was much more reminiscent of Dot and Hugh than Sodom and Gomorrah. But it was a kiss that declared his intentions to everyone, and especially to Phryne. He was all in. 

When he pulled back, he was somewhat gratified to see Phryne’s eyes still closed and a very soft smile on her face.

“Welcome home, Miss Fisher.”

She opened her eyes and her smile brightened. “Very glad to be back, darling.” She was all in, too. 

Jack then turned to the rest of the somewhat stunned, and slightly delighted room, and asked dryly, “So, what do I win?”

“Jaaaaaack,” Phryne admonished. “I think you’ve done very well for yourself this evening already. Don’t push your luck.” She turned to Mr. Butler. “Dinner still in half an hour, Mr. B?”

“I believe closer to an hour now, miss. My apologies.”

“Oh, that will be just fine; we’ll see you then. Goodnight everyone.” And then she took Jack’s hand and led him back out to the front hall, but stopped them before they entered the parlour, her hand on his chest, her eyes locked on his.

“That was... quite a kiss, Jack.”

“Well you’re quite a woman, Miss Fisher. And I suppose I was tired of having any space between us at all.” He placed his hand over hers, stroking the back of it gently with his thumb. “Phryne, we’ve been invading one another’s boundaries for a very long time - all I did was eliminate the last few inches.”

“Wellllll,” she purred, and that predatory look was back, and damned if it wasn’t his new favorite expression, “it seems we have a little time before dinner. If you come upstairs, I bet we can get even closer.”

“It _would_ be nice to kiss you without an audience, for once,” he admitted with a sly smile.

She took his hand, no space or doubts between them, and led him up the stairs. As they rounded the landing, she leaned close to his ear and whispered, “speaking of a few inches, Jack…”

Jack’s answering laughter rang through the hall. 

Something wonderful was afoot at Wardlow. 

**Author's Note:**

> For OllyJay, GeeNee27, and all fans everywhere of alternative measurements tools. ;-)


End file.
